


The Bearer

by Himitsu_no



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Charles Has Issues, Drama, Erik has Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himitsu_no/pseuds/Himitsu_no
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a righteous king, who - despite his best efforts - kept making mistake after mistake in his despair to place the blame elsewhere and escape the stabbing guilt.And Charles?He didn’t have much use as an advisor, after all. Most importantly, though, he was the bearer of a promise.And he would always, alwaysremember.1.000% inspired by the song "Queen of Peace", by Florence and the Machine. Please listen to it and its lyrics before reading this fic! It will be totally worth your while :)





	The Bearer

The Bearer

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no!”

Charles shook his head and did his best to keep his tone calm as he rushed toward the king.

“Erik, no!”

Still, he knew he never backed down.

 

“There is no other way, Charles.”, he said, face intently hidden from the younger man. “It’s us or them. We’re going to war.”

 

“No! There is another way! There is, Erik! Please!!”

Charles pulled his face gently toward him, meeting his eyes firmly – so full of love and desperation.

“Listen, we’ve had them at truce for twelve years. There is another way! Erik, please!! Send-- send me in, I will talk to them and end this nonsense. Please, Erik.”

Erik thought for a minute, and then shook his head.

“I cannot risk you.”

“Oh, my darling. I can handle this. Spare this country another battle. Our people do not deserve it.”

Erik’s face hardened.

“Prepare the army.”

 

\--------

 

Charles stood in front of five thousand men, poise stern but heart heavy.

“Are they ready?”, the king asked.

“Please, reconsider this. Look at Alex and Scott Summers, Robert Drake, Hank McCoy. And Peter, Erik!”, he pleaded in a whisper. “They’re still boys, barely old enough to be on their own.”

“They are soldiers, Charles.”

The king walked among them until he was face to face with Peter.

“You are not to disappoint me.”

The young man couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, father.”

\------------

 

“Peter!!!!”

He ran into the battle field as fast as his legs would carry him, and on both sides men fell from their horses and blacked out before they could even see him. From far away spears and arrows flew toward him but none would touch him. More and more soldiers would fall around him at a simple thought from Charles.

“Peter!!!”, he yelled as he ran through the field of lifeless men toward that tiny flicker of a mind. That small, wavering flicker of a mind.

Peter Lehnsherr laid on the dirt ground, mudy with blood.

“Oh, my dear boy…”

Charles fought the tears as he did his best at keeping the young man from bleeding any longer. “I’m calling for help, hold on.”

“Charlie— my father…”, he tried with the diminute amount of strength still in him. “I— Charlie, help me.”

“Shh, shhh!! Don’t speak now. Stay with me, Peter. Stay with me. Don’t talk. Just hold on. I’m calling for help. I’m calling—Peter! Peter!!! Stay with me, Peter!!!”

 

Charles Xavier tore in a harrowing scream.

The boy he had seen born and raised in front of his eyes, surrounded by his love and a caring mother, despite the troubled and proud king of a father, was gone.

He remained by his side until the very end, and beyond.

 

\---------

 

It was almost night when his limp body was carried back to the castle, lethargic and broken.

“Charles!!!”

Erik stood quickly from his throne and rushed to his side.

“What happened to him?”

“He was in battlefield, Your Majesty.”

“What?? How—I never ordered him to! He wasn’t supposed—Is he wounded?”

“He doesn’t seem to be. It seems he--”

“Take him to his bedroom.”

“Your Majesty, Peter… It seems Charles tried to save him. We found him by his side.”

Erik’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“Your son, Peter… has perished, sir.”

Perhaps the greatest and most cruel pain a king could experience is the sharp gut-wrenching guilt and the cold heartbreak of knowing he’d sent his own child to be killed in a senseless war despite the sensible voice of a trusted advisor. He’d begged him not to send those men into battle, but a man must do what he fears is best for his people – except when he belatedly understands it’s not about fear or reason, but rather pride. And pride would never bring children back to their mothers.

Erik crumbled to his feet, heart bleeding with regret. His head felt heavy, his crown a burden, his power weak and useless.

Seventeen years taken for granted and now gone. Peter was gone.

 

 

It was dawn when Charles woke up to the feeling of cold feet finding his under the heavy blankets.

“Get out.”, he ordered.

Erik cried. It was the first time he’d ever heard him cry, but Charles would not yield. He could not.

“Get. Out.”

Erik pleaded.

“I need you. _Please_.”

Charles felt his own tears run down his face in anger and sorrow.

“I have no mercy for a murderous monarch.”

“Charles… Please.”

“I pleaded, too. I begged him to live, Erik. And I could do nothing to save that boy, or any of the others, because you sent them to die. I have nothing but hatred for you. Get. Out.”

For long minutes neither could move or speak. Silence hung thick and acid cold in the air, until he felt Erik shift.

He got up and left. Charles stood still, weeping as he remembered the horrific feeling of losing his beloved godchild.

He would never forgive the king.

 

 

 

It was afternoon when Erik barged into his room.

“You… you….!!! Why didn’t you tell me???”

Charles remained in bed, ignoring the question. He didn’t mention _what_ , but he knew _exactly_ what he’d meant.

“Congratulations on winning the war, Your Majesty. You got what you wanted. Genosha is once again free of menace.”, he sneered. “Was it worth it, though?”

“You’re a telepath!? How come you never told me?? God, Charles… All these years… This-- all of this could have been avoided if you had told me!!”

Charles sat up and looked at him in anger.

“Don’t you DARE put this on me. Don’t you DARE, Erik!!! You have no AUDACITY to blame me for this stupid war you’ve waged!!!!”, he yelled. “DON’T YOU _DARE_ , ERIK!!!!”

Erik knelt by his side and hung his head, not daring to look at the other man.

“I am so full of despair, Charles. I can’t stop thinking--- I can’t stop thinking I--- I---”

Words failed him and he trembled. In a weak voice, he admitted -

“I failed you. I failed Peter. I cannot live with myself, Charles.”

He finally looked up to meet Charles’ blue eyes with his own bloodshot and sleepless ones. His face looked paler than usual, his hair a mess, burgundy velvet cape thrown around his shoulders carelessly.

The crown atop his head reminded him who was kneeling at his bed. It wasn’t just Erik – it was the king of Genosha. Even in a time like this, he was still king. The proud and mighty king.

Charles felt sick. The grief in his heart wouldn’t yield, and he was torn between sheer hate and a broken tenderness he knew could never be fixed.

Erik trudged on.

“If you are… indeed… what they say you are… I—I accept you. But please. _Please_ , make me forget. Take this pain from me.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Three of our soldiers saw you wipe down a legion of armored men without touching them. The men that found you say… they say they heard you. In their heads. They couldn’t find you immediately, but they heard you.”

In his troubled mind, Charles regretted that moment of carelessness. He could easily forgive himself for it, but still regretted it. So many years hiding his power – avoiding the minds of others, especially Erik’s.

Only one person had known -- Peter.

Oh, how he had loved and trusted Peter, as if he’d been his own child.

“Please, Charles. I accept you. Please. Help me.”

Charles shook his head.

“No. You are deserving of this pain, Erik. Mothers all over the kingdom are mourning their children killed in war. You deserve every bit of this pain. Perhaps this will at last make you understand.”

“If—if you’ve ever loved me. Help me. Please.”

“I could never love such a reckless man.”

There was a long moment before Erik stood. He wiped his tears and adjusted his crown, his collar, trousers and cape.

“You will regret this, Charles.”

“I am not the one at fault.”

 

 

By the end of that night, he was locked up in the cold prison.

Erik locked eyes with Charles’ fierce ones and a guard closed the cell.

“Is this how much you love me, Erik?”, the telepath asked.

 

He never answered.

 

\------------

 

“What are you doing here?”, Erik asked in amazement at the young man walking barefoot in his pajamas and free of the shackles he’d seen him less than half an hour prior.

“I let myself out.”, Charles replied non-chalantly.

Erik started walking towards him.

“I am heading back to my room to gather my belongings and then I am leaving the castle.”

“You are a prisoner. You cannot leave without my orders.”

“No,” he braved, “you’re wrong.”

As Erik was about to reply, he heard Charles’ voice in his head.

_You’re powerless against me._

“I’m still the king.”

_You are no king of mine._

Erik’s pained expression was the first to unravel him.

“I can’t afford to lose you, Charles.”

His own face betrayed him, and his voice –

“Then why treat me like a stranger, Erik??”

“I – I—couldn’t… can’t.. I--”

“Why, Erik? YOU are to blame. YOU should have listened. I BEGGED you to stop. YOU didn’t. listen. I will not, _cannot_ , erase what you did. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve _me_. How can you be such a _shit_ of a person if we are all hurting??”

Erik swallowed hard and quietly replied. “Yet here you are.”

“Here I am??”, he questioned in disbelief, eyebrows raised in anger and hurt.

There was a moment of silence before Charles closed his eyes and flooded Erik’s mind with Peter’s last mental conversation with him.

— _He was lousy father, wasn’t he?_

— _Yes. But he still loved you, darling. Stay with me, Peter._

— _Yeah. I don’t know. Don’t know about that. You… you help him, ok?_

— _I don’t think I can promise you that, my love._

— _You’re a good man, Charles. You are kind, I know you will help him. I know you. You… you have… so much love for him. I know you. Promise, Charlie._

— _I---_

— _Charlie. Promise._

— _Peter, stay with me._

— _Charlie._

— _Peter!!!_

 

When Charles opened his eyes, Erik’s face was damp with tears and the deepest, most regretful expression he’d ever seen on any man.

“You are making this very, very hard, Erik. We all loved him. We all lost him.”

It was a long while until the other man responded, and he could almost hear something inside Erik wreck.

Pride.

“I am sorry. I am so… _so_ sorry, Charles.”

 

Charles averted his gaze and licked his lips. He knew. Of _course_ he knew. He could feel all the overflowing regret of a righteous man, who - despite his best efforts - kept making mistake after mistake in his ache to place the blame elsewhere and escape the stabbing guilt. The never-ending sorrow that plagued his hours.

 

 

It was Erik who softly cradled his face between cold hands, briefly kissed his lips and embraced him in such tenderness and so little strength it could break him from within. Because they were both so broken they could shatter.

Charles did shatter, as he collapsed into loud sobs and pained moans and such deep, deep hurt. Erik held him as he, too, quietly cried in the crook of his neck, bitterly basking in the softness and familiarity of Charles. He felt home in Charles, and Charles held onto him for dear life, drowning in grief.

 

 

 

 

In his first public appearance months after the brief yet ruthless war had ended, the king was faced with a multitude of angry and heartbroken citizens who spoke loudly and protested against their ruler.

He pitied the man. But it was the first time he saw Erik listen. Perhaps he was changing, after all.

Erik was a man deeply concerned about his people and justice. He’d made a handful of impetuous, reckless mistakes - true. But he did try to always consider his people’s interest first, even though he seldom listened to anyone else. Not even him.

 _Especially_ not him.

He wondered if he was of any use as an advisor at all, since he never seemed to take Charles’ thoughts into consideration. Charles, it seemed, was more of a support of some sort.

There was a moment when time stood still, when people seemed to freeze and a fraction of a second stretched into a minute.

For a moment in time, something happened.

In that fragile second, Charles felt deeply moved by how much those poor and humble peasants loved the young prince, with his easy smiles and innate gentleness. It made his absence all the more difficult to bear - but there was so much love for him, that there was nothing more he could do.

 

The people of Genosha and the king himself would always remember Peter Lehnsherr – a courageous and kind prince, gone at such young age while helplessly sick and bedridden. _At least he’d passed in his sleep, painlessly_ , they’d say.

 

When time rushed to normal, Erik looked back at Charles and gave him an odd look.

“What?”, he asked.

Erik shrugged. “Did you feel something weird just now?”

Charles smiled. “Could be the pork you ate last night.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

Erik turned back to the awaiting crowd and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts. He then announced he’d give away land to the most impoverished and start a fund for the old.

The crowd cheered and he smiled.

Erik turned back to him and kissed him on the lips. And carried on with his speech.

 

 

He was a righteous man.

Who, despite his best efforts, had made mistakes but had his people’s best interest in mind.

And Charles?

He didn’t have much use as an advisor, after all. He was, if anything, the king’s confidant and a beloved companion at best.

Most importantly, though, he was the bearer of the truth.

 

And he would always, _always_  remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this was rushed. I had no intention on writing it, but it was pestering me for the longest time(months!!). If another author would like to rewrite this in a longer fanfic, I'll be delighted to read! Please do!!!


End file.
